


Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

by andiownyousomuch



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M, Floppy!Amon, Gen, Half-Ghoul!Amon, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andiownyousomuch/pseuds/andiownyousomuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mistystarshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistystarshine/gifts).



> Written for the TKG Secret Santa exchange.
> 
> Spoilers up to TG:re 42.
> 
> Edit [2016.06.24]: Just a reminder that this fic was written before the Cochlea/Rue Island arc came out! So that's why Kurona is very different.

 

 

**fallen**

 

They had opened his chest, thinking that way they could lay their hands on his heart.

 

How wrong they were.

 

( _Floppy_ , Dr. Kanou had called him.

 

A failed experiment.

 

A mistake. _Their mistake._ )

 

They had ended up giving him the power to break free.

 

And for the second time in his life, Amon Koutarou runs away from an enemy.

 

-

**pilgrimage**

 

Wounded, Amon opens his way deep into the woods. The sunlight pours on him, through branches and leaves.

 

He walks fast, forward: on and on and on. He ignores his sinews stretching, his ribcage trying desperately to hold him whole.

 

The pain still hasn’t left his blood. At least, his blood also ceases to leave, his flesh regenerating cuts and bruises. He smiles in self-hatred at what he had become – his humanity buried in his own body, but not forgotten. _This world is wrong_.

 

It’s been hours since Amon’s escaped, and probably he has put a good distance between him and them for now. But how many months have passed while he was locked away? How many years?

 

(In his cell, in the surgery table: it seemed an eternity.)

 

His feet lead him -- somewhere. He has nowhere to go, so anywhere will do. He just needs a place to recover and then—

 

The vision of plain hills greets him, and he breathes in the scent of wet earth. From the point where the forest ends, the grass is newly cut, making home for memories engraved in stone and grief.

 

He knows this place.

 

Far away, there’s someone leaning on a tomb, leaving flowers and words, though he can’t distinguish them. It’s a woman; she straightens, taking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

 

He knows this person, too.

 

“Akira,” he says in a hoarse whisper, voice unused to relief.

 

She’s alive. She’s–

_– beautiful._

 

To his surprise, Amon finds himself with his deformed hand outstretched in her direction. He immediately retreats his arm, shame burning his skin. The trees hide him in their shadows, and Amon watches her silhouette getting distant, until his eyes no longer can reach her. Only when he is sure there isn’t anyone else but himself that he walks to the spot where Akira was standing, moments before. There’s a bouquet of white carnations in front of the grave, and a sad smile crosses his face.

 

AMON KOUTAROU

APRIL 7th, 1985 – JULY 11th, 2012

 

He kneels before his headstone, fingertips tracing his own name, marked in cold stone. What he is now? – just a ghost, a ghoul, anything but human. His hands search for the rosary hanging on his neck, tightening around the cross; the only thing they hadn’t taken from him _._ In a silent prayer, Amon closes his eyes, a resolution already taking shape inside of him.

 

He gets up and walks to the other tombs, searching for other names. Colleagues who he’d seen dying in the battlefield, before his own eyes; some missing, like himself, even if Amon’d found them later, in Dr. Kanou’s lab. Each step makes his chest heavier. At least, he knows that Akira is: safe. Alive. He clings to that thought, like it is an anchor. He also tries to think that, if he didn’t find any tomb for Shinohara and Suzuya, they should be well. They should be alright.

 

Amon pauses at Takizawa’s tomb, where lies another carnation arrangement. He bits his lower lip, rage and regret closing his fist with force. _I’m sorry I couldn’t save you._

 

His next stop is by Harima’s. He gives to her a single white lily, plucked from the graveyard. “This is all I have for now,” he says, “I’m sorry.” Then Amon shakes his head; maybe all he’s got were apologies now. He tries, “Hope you’ve been well.”

 

His walk ends by Mado’s grave, accompanied by Akira’s flowers. Amon salutes the other man, briefly – Amon could not be an investigator anymore, but Mado would always be his mentor.

 

“Mado-san… I should be ashamed to appear in front of you like this. But I want you to know… that I’ll still fight.”

 

His right hand gasps at the hole in his chest finally closing. In a way, Amon thinks he understands ghouls now, even if little: there’re things you shouldn’t survive.

 

-

**via crucis**

_One-eyed, eater of his own kind,_ they say. _A wide shadow in the alley. He has a deformed hand, but three fingers are still enough to break bones._

 

Rumors are spread, and they bring to him one of the Yasuhisas to his side -- his side, which is not Aogiri’s, not CCG’s.

 

This is his path: between humans and ghouls, between the living and the dead.

 

There is a war: outside, and inside of him.

 

-

**mercy**

 

(was it like this for _him_ , too?)

 

-

**calvary**

 

What they do not say: he’s a truth-seeker, a cross-carrier. He has three crosses with him – on his neck, on his shoulders, on his name.

 

That night, Amon and Yasuhisa take refuge in an abandoned church, the rotten ceiling making space for the moonlight. Amon leans against the wall, preparing himself to sleep, when Yasuhisa suddenly calls him:

 

“Amon-san… can I ask you something?” The sleepiness leaves his eyes, and Amon looks at her, nodding. “Are you catholic?”

 

“No,” he answers, politely. “Is because of this, right?” Amon asks, gesturing to his rosary.

 

A shy silence. Then, “Yes.”

 

“I carry this so I won’t forget.”

 

“Forget what?”

 

( _Running at the backyard of the orphanage. The first time he’d eaten a donut. Children’s laugh filling every room. Father’s voice calling them for the lunch. Father handing him a cross,_ This will protect you. _And then: the wolf in sheep’s clothing._

_On a rainy day, there’s always a young man crying, begging to Amon to not make him a murderer._

_A question, unanswered:_ what makes someone a monster?)

 

At last, he replies: “My ignorance.”

 

-

**i died so i could haunt you**

 

From the shadows, he accompanies Akira on her visits to the graveyard, every weekend. The image of the lonely lines of her body, leaving flowers to her loved ones, and always being the one left behind, lingers on his eyelids, even when he shuts his eyes.

 

There are moments when Akira’s gaze shifts from the grave to the forest, like she’s looking for something, or someone, and Amon would fade even more among the trees.

 

Sometimes, he also waits for her, from the top of a building. He watches the moon-touched window of her apartment, until it has its own light, once more, with Akira coming home.

_You are not alone. I’m here_.

 

He doesn’t say any of these things.

 

-

**april is the cruellest month**

 

His shadow walks behind him, his hunger, now, hidden in his right eye, in his shoulder blade. Fresh and foil blood rest on his mouth.

 

A long time ago, a young man had cried before him, _“I don’t want to eat anymore.”_

 

Amon looks up at the full moon, and recognizes that words for what they were: an impossible wish.

 

This hunger will always hunt him, no matter where he goes.

 

-

**we were buried alive**

 

He’d avoided visiting Akira for a few weeks after the auction, when there would be many people saying goodbye to those who were killed on the last mission. It would be dangerous to approach the cemetery with the presence of so many investigators.

 

This is his first visit after that pause.

 

Akira’s alright – but still, lines are drawn in Amon’s forehead, in worry.

 

In front of him, there’s the last tomb Akira’d visited. She’d been standing there, for hours, with an empty gaze and empty hands.

 

By Takizawa’s grave, there aren’t any flowers.

 

-

**god has two hands**

 

It’s been some days since he’s been monitoring a group of Aogiri that has made contact with the Rose. He sees the group ambushing the Quinx squad, and observes – they can handle the enemies. Eyepatch is there with them, after all.

 

\-- Except that Eyepatch isn’t with one of them. Amon hears a girl’s cry, and rushes to the source of that sound: a tiny girl trapped against the wall, with a ghoul leaning above her. Feet planted firmly on the ground give to Amon enough impulse, and he uses his weight to deliver more power to his attack, sending the ghoul away. A mist of dust surrounds him, and he leaves, not before hearing a weak whisper of _thank yo_ u _._

 

Later, Amon looks at his hands, with a strange feeling in his chest:

_It’s been a long time ever since he’d saved someone else’s life._

 

-

**kisses are a better fate**

 

In his dreams, his calloused palm kisses her lips, softly. Their eyes meet; Akira’s fingers immediately release the grasp on his tie. He gives her an apology, and she gives him her back.

 

She doesn’t look back.

 

In his dreams, he stops her, takes her arm, kindly but firmly, and only then Akira looks at him again.

 

This time, it’s Amon who leans in, and –

 

-

**i have promises to keep, and miles to go before i sleep**

 

“Amon-san... why don’t you go back?”

 

With her words, his eyes leave the night sky.

 

“What do you mean, Yasuhisa?”

 

“Your situation is different from mine. In the end, I chose _this_. And unlike me, Amon-san… you have people waiting for you. At least… that person you go see every week is.”

 

For a moment, Amon contemplates his answer.

 

“Even if I would go back, I wouldn’t leave you alone, Yasuhisa. Besides… the truth is, I already decided that I won’t go back. What I’m looking for isn’t something I could find while working for CCG. I realized that, after meeting Eyepatch and everything that has happened ever since then. But this path I took is too dangerous. If I met her, and she helped me, that would put her in an even more dangerous situation. That’s why I can’t go back.”

 

Yasuhisa’s eyes have a strange and watery gleam to them.

 

“Amon-san… you’re cruel. But I understand... and for everything you’ve done for me, thank you.”

 

His hand pats her head, gently. “You don’t have to thank me for anything, Yasuhisa.”

 

-

**i swear by all flowers**

 

On his vigil of Akira’s apartment, Amon finds himself a little worried. Usually, by this hour, Akira already would be back at home – but maybe she’s staying in the office until late, writing an urgent report, or she’s in a middle of a mission today.

 

It’s when Amon decides to get out that he spots a taxi arriving on the street next to Akira’s building. It’s Akira who pulls out of the car. She stumbles on the sidewalk, and, before she could fall, Akira supports herself with her hands on the nearest wall.

 

Amon sighs, and goes to her.

 

\--And that’s how he ends up with an unconscious Akira on his back, her keys on his hands, in front of her door.

 

The situation is oddly familiar.

 

“Good evening,” he greets Akira’s cat, while entering in the apartment. “It’s been a while.”

 

The cat chooses to ignore him, going to the kitchen. Chuckling a little, Amon walks to Akira’s room. He bows slightly to the photography resting on the cabinet, before laying, carefully, Akira on the bed.

 

Amon kneels by her bedside, and looks at her. His fingers push her hair from her eyes. “I told you not to drink,” Amon murmurs, with fondness and nostalgia in his voice.

 

But why did she drink so much?

 

A moan catches his attention, and Akira wears a pained expression on her face. Amon glances at the cabinet, trying to identify if there’s any medicine.

 

Before he could get up, Akira’s hand stops him, grabbing him by his robe.

 

“Wait,” she whispers, “Don’t go.”

 

His heart jumps a little, with surprise. Amon hears her knees landing softly on the ground, behind him.

 

“This is… a dream, right?” Akira asks, with a broken voice. “Or you wouldn’t… be here. This is a dream. So I can… say anything… that I want.”

 

“Akira…?”

 

“Amon, I… found him. But he wasn’t… Takizawa anymore.” Amon stills, as Akira’s hand tightens around his cloak at the mention of that name, with force. Her fingers are shaking. “ _What did they do to him…?_ If I hadn’t said anything… because I was worried about you… he wouldn’t have gone there. _I killed him._ It’s my fault.”

 

At this, Amon turns to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. Her head is lowered, eyes fixed on the ground, bangs covering partially her face from him.

 

“Akira, look at me,” he asks, without getting any response from her. Again, he tries, “This isn’t your fault.”

 

A self-loathed laugh comes from the back of her throat. “After I’d seen Takizawa, I wondered: what if… what if you were alive, too?”

 

Her hands cling to his clothes, her face and her words pressed against his chest. The alcohol is like a poison to Akira, forcing the bloom of old wounds, opening them again, petal by petal. The words leave her mouth, without any consent.

 

“There’re rumors about a ghoul cannibalizing others… and Yonebayashi’s description… but maybe I’m being selfish. A fool. Because when I think better about it, Amon… it would be better if you were dead. So that would mean that you didn’t suffer so much.”

 

Amon can’t bring himself to say anything – his voice is trapped in his chest, crushed by a wet weight, where Akira rests her head.

_Is she--_

 

Finally, Akira looks up at him. There’s a river behind her eyes, but she allows only tiny drops to fall across her cheeks.

 

“Amon Koutarou, I…” She begins, a wet and weak smile on her mouth. “… love you.”

 

And then, like a broken spell, she couldn’t hold back her tears anymore.

 

Helpless, Amon does the only thing he can. Akira fits in the space of his arms, his shoulder drinks each tear, soothes each muted whimper, fingers running through her hair. Against her hair, he whispers _I’m here, I’m sorry, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay_ , and hugs her tightly.

 

She cries until sleep comes. He puts Akira in her bed, once more. And, with his hand on hers, Amon waits for the night to end.

 

-

**mourning lightens, and morning comes**

 

Minutes before the dawn, he leaves her apartment, and goes to a spot where his sight can reach the porch of Akira’s home.

 

A few hours later, Akira opens the door of her balcony. The sounds of the city in the beginning of the day hang in the air; she closes her swollen eyes, welcoming the morning’s touch on her skin.

 

Like in a dream, Amon vanishes, as her eyes open again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- Some references: the ‘semi-titles’ “april is the cruellest month”, “kisses are a better fate”, “I swear by all flowers”, “I have promises to keep” and “I died so I could haunt you” are words from T. S. Elliot, e. e. cummings, Robert Frost and Stars’s song. The title of this fic is a poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye. (I just… really like poetry and really, really needed some titles)
> 
>  
> 
> \- Amon’s name: one of the kanjis of Amon’s name (亜) has its origin in this other symbol (亞), which resembles a cross. If you want to know more, see [this post](http://sunset-tower.tumblr.com/post/123456988642/after-seeing-multiple-post-regarding-character) by sunset-tower (it’s very worth the read!!).
> 
>  
> 
> \- The dates on Amon’s grave were based on Amon’s wiki page and on [this post](http://makyun.tumblr.com/post/117166457397/i-dont-understand-the-timeline-in-tg-how-many) by makyun, about TG and TG:re timelines.
> 
>  
> 
> \- **To Misty:** Since Amon’s your favorite character, I tried to write something about him… and I was glad that we share an OTP (akiramon is beautiful), so I tried to include them here too. I hope you like this gift. Have a Merry Christmas!
> 
>  
> 
> \- Comments and kudos are super-welcomed, specially on this time of the year. Happy holidays, folks!


End file.
